


In Morpheus' arms

by syusuke



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, Not Beta Read, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, Sensing, Sensor Tobirama, Tobi had no real childhood, not as soulless as everyone claims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 15:23:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20342335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syusuke/pseuds/syusuke
Summary: Tobirama had always had nightmares. Some worse than others, most bloody. At least he no longer has to deal with them alone.





	In Morpheus' arms

“Tobi! Tobirama, wake up! Come on, it’s a dream. It’s not real. Tobi..”

He was alone. All alone. Everything started to fall apart. His childhood home crumbled to dust, his father walked away, not reacting to his desperate shouts. He turned around. Itama and Kawarama were lying on the floor, both bleeding from several stab wounds. He rushed to their sides, he murmured some reassuring nonsense, hands already glowing with medical jutsu. But before he could reach them, Hashirama stepped between him and their dying brothers. He shouted at him and even though he could not make out the words, he felt the anger in his chakra, the fear, the accusation. He refused to let him through and then he understood. His hands were dripping wet. It was him. He was the monster who killed little kids, barely old enough to be called shinobi. It was him. He really had become a mindless puppet for his clan. When he looked up again his brothers were gone. Instead there was a sea of blood in front of him, he recognized the clan symbols on their armors. Uchiha, Hatake, Aburame, Uzumaki... and many more. So many corpses, gutted, beheaded, stabbed, maimed...

He reacted on instinct when he registered the tight grip on his shoulders. Someone had trapped him, someone held him down. Tobirama went limp, tempting his opponent to come closer and he did. It only took one swift move to pin the other man underneath him. As he opened his eyes he noticed the lack of light, dark clothes, long hair, a room of average size. He held his opponent down while quickly scanning the room for weapons. There were none.

“Finally.... oi, Tobi! Snap out of it!”

Tobi... Only two people called him Tobi. Only two, both precious. His heart sank as he remembered what just happened. He had killed his brothers.. Hashirama would.. He couldn’t...

“Hey, idiot. Use your brain. Think. Where are you?”

Tobirama tilted his head slightly. His eyes slowly got used to the near darkness. The man underneath him wasn’t Hashirama. He was too small. But he did not fight back, even though Tobirama used his entire bodyweight to keep him pinned, one hand applying pressure to his throat. Even his pulse was only slightly raised.

“Tobirama. Tell me, where are we right now?”

Some of the tension left him at the familiar voice. He knew that voice, he trusted it. He gave himself a minute to feel the softness beneath him, smell the miso soup from the next room, sense Touka a few houses further.

“We’re in Konoha... I’m sorry.“

He was in his own home. There was no reason to be tense. He did not have to fight here.

He followed the gentle guidance of strong hands when he was pulled down to rest on the futon. He appreciated the firm grip that held him close. Madara. Warm, his chakra steady and calm. Madara. The war was over. Konoha was no longer his brother’s childish dream. Madara. The man who had forced his way into Tobirama’s life. Never accepting a no or leaving him to his own devices like his clan had.

“It’s fine. Just breathe. I had to wake you. You were clawing at your throat again.”

Tobirama couldn’t suppress a small shudder. His nightmares had been extremely violent as a child. Once he had even attacked his father when he was sleepwalking, mistaking him for the enemy from his dream. He had gotten his own room after that incident. With a lock.

“Breathe, Tobi. Honestly, it’s fine. Nothing happened.”

His breathing calmed down rather easily with the comfort of a loved one next to him. His limbs went lax, his head resting on a shoulder cushioned by thick hair. Where Hashirama was overwhelming in his care, Madara was subtle. He had always felt safe with him, never pressured to explain himself or to share past experiences. As a rule, they did not ask. Both had their share of trauma and regrets.

“Concentrate on me, my chakra, my body. We’re in Konoha, in our house, one sideroad from Touka and Hikaku, two streets over from Hashirama and Mito. Whatever you saw, it’s over. No use thinking about it.

Tobirama cast out his chakra, letting it seep into the ground like water. He needed less than a minute to do a quick check on everyone in the village. Most of their people were calm and warm, content in sleep. Some of the younger kids were crying and he could feel the exhaustion from their caretakers. He was content to feel the proper tension from the shinobi on guard. Although he did make a mental note to take Hiro off night watch, his wife and small child had a troubled sleep, cuddled up together. He lingered longer on Mito. He was not entirely certain that she knew of the new life she carried yet. The little one had the tiniest bit of chakra, but it was so much... gentler than Mito’s stormy one. Still, it was Madara’s chakra crackling lowly like a campfire that helped the most.

It reminded him of the day when everything changed. He remembered Madara laying on the ground after Hashirama finally overpowered him. The fighting had stopped around them and their respective clans had almost held their breaths. He had clearly seen the doubts in Madara’s eyes as Hashirama once again begged for peace. He had seen his brother’s hesitance when Madara had demanded a life for a life. He had taken the initiative himself, he had asked for Madara’s word that if he took his own life, their clans could have peace and there would be no more childhunting. He remembered in crisp detail how Madara’s expression had shifted from shocked to calculating to daring. He could still hear Hashirama’s gasp as his katana had pierced his guts. He had been willing to sacrifice his life for his clan. He had given up too much to refuse them his body. He’d given up his own ambitions and dreams to help Hashirama. He had given up his childhood to protect Itama and Kawarama. He had given up any hope for love and affection when he had trained himself into the perfect soldier father wanted. What was his life in comparison to the soul he’d already lost? To this day and until his last breath he would remember Madara frantically shouting at his brother to heal him and swearing that the price had been paid, that he could have his village. He had blacked out shortly afterwards.

“Is this okay?”, Madara whispered in the dark. He slipped one hand underneath Tobirama’s sleeping shirt and started lightly scratching along his spine. The other hand was still playing with white hair. It had taken them a long time to offer and accept these kinds of comfort. Madara relaxed when Tobirama nuzzled his neck and tried to get even closer. He couldn’t resist the urge to plant a kiss on his forehead. It wasn’t hidden by the faceguard quite as often nowadays, but it was just one of these spots on his lover that he did not have within reach often enough. Stupid Senju genes, bunch of tall freaks.

“Sorry for waking you”, Tobirama muttered, “I must have... It’s been a tiring week.”

“You didn’t. I’ve been awake the entire time. Thinking.”, Madara hesitated, “My falcon returned. The Hatake are finally accepting our invite. Their clan head was very clear though that she will only negotiate with you. She said Hashirama has forgotten about the Hatake blood in him, but she recognizes it in you. I know you have too much work as it is...”

“...it’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll take care of it. Sleep now.”, Tobirama pressed a soft kiss to Madara’s throat. He felt sleep washing over him, engulfed in warmth as he was. Comfortable, safe. _Beloved_. He was exactly where he wanted to be. With the one person who knew his darkest secrets, his forbidden longing to bring their brothers back and didn’t judge him for it. The one person who understood his desires and the unique temptations he faced with his inventions. Madara knew his darkness, accepted it and loved him anyway.

Madara held his lover close. Thankful for the willingness with which Tobirama wholeheartedly gave anything the village needed and more. Worried by the obvious exhaustion both mentally and physically. Tobirama was immensely capable and he worked harder than anyone else, but he forgot himself over it. It would have to be Madara’s job to keep him from an early grave. He could not count on Hashirama in that regard. His friend might be a family man, but he had long stopped treating Tobirama as a younger sibling to be treasured and protected. He saw Tobirama as the merciless soldier Butsuma had beaten into him. Madara was not sure what happened between the brothers. He only knew that Hashirama had given all of the most dangerous missions to his brother and Tobirama had accepted them with a grim resolve that made his blood run cold. There was nothing to be gained in questioning them. It hurt Madara to see the affection in Tobirama’s actions, the way he did everything to help Hashirama, the paperwork that was magically done and Hashirama still had the nerve to complain about his brother being coldhearted. It was almost as if Hashirama couldn’t see the way the children flocked to Tobirama and how he remained patient when teaching them their first jutsus. It was as if Hashirama couldn’t see how successfully Tobirama hid his irritation and acted as a good diplomat around other clans.

Madara turned his head a little to look at Tobirama’s sleeping face. His breaths were slow and deep, arms resting around Madara’s waist. It was a sight to memorize. He was so young. In another time, in another family, he might have been a spoiled child. Second born, with a mind for politics and strategy, he could have been at the daimyo’s court and made a name for himself. In another clan without any longstanding rivalries he could have had a childhood. He could have been a sensor guard, could have used his gifts to protect his brothers. Instead he had been forced to train too harshly, they had prepared him for battle long before he’d understood why. Hashirama’s rebellion had doomed him to become his father’s sword. Madara would never call him broken or weak. His lover was brilliant and strong and also deeply scarred by years of abuse. He had to suppress a chuckle, not wanting to wake the man in his arms. Took one tortured soul to know another. Madara thanked every deity that cared to listen for Tobirama. At least, it proved they still had their souls. Broken and battered, small and fragile, just enough to share them with each other. They were still human.

**Author's Note:**

> My sleep is more troubled than usual and I just felt like Tobirama would be so stoic about it afterwards. But with someone he trusted, someone he loved.. he could be allowed to seek comfort.  
Everything else just.. happened. 
> 
> I will forever blame raendown for getting me into this ship with her wonderful stories. ;-)


End file.
